


The Punk & The Ballerina

by rectifiedgenius



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ballet Dancer Peter Parker, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, High School, Innocent Peter Parker, Punk Mary Jane Watson, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 08:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19848946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rectifiedgenius/pseuds/rectifiedgenius
Summary: Where a ballerina falls for a punk. (MJ x Peter Parker)





	1. His Defender

Opposites attracted. Everybody said it, but Peter was a skeptic. Until he met her. It's easy for Peter to develop crushes on strangers or new kids in class. But that feeling always passes after a few days. He's still attracted to them and all, but he has no will to develop a relationship beyond friends. 

But something about MJ was different. She walked by and Peter's lower stomach would alight and catch fire, burning in a triumphant glory after managing to embarrass him. He was always left in a deep blush, Flash chuckling for effect as he pointed out the new colour on his cheeks. Peter never let it bug him, though. 

Peter has always ignored Flash's comments until he overheard the other whisper, "MJ's pretty stuck-up for someone not--" then his voice was swallowed up by chatter. It wasn't said to Peter, or even directed to him. But he felt a pang of anger hit him, unlike when Flash insults Peter himself. 

"Hey, you probably shouldn't say stuff like that," Peter kindly said without a second thought. He wasn't a very social person, in the slightest. Peter considered himself an introvert. School was filled with enough moments of socialization for the duration of his life. It's a miracle he hasn't gone mad yet.

Flash turned to him, scoffing, "Oh, yeah? What're you gon' do about it, Penis Parker?" Flash laughed, along with his kiss-ass of a friend. 

Peter quickly looked down, cheeks flushing a light pink. Flash was about to give him more shit for his uncontrollable colouration, until MJ looked up from the floor. 

"Lay off," she hissed.

Peter looked up, meeting eyes with MJ before she looked away again. Flash scoffed, irritated. But he didn't put up much of a fight, getting back into a conversation with his friend.

Peter was quiet for the rest of the class, trying not to overly stare or smile in MJ's direction. Maybe she was just annoyed from Flash's nonstop comments, or maybe she actually cared about Peter. He immediately assumed the second one, being his optimistic-self. 

What did Jim from The Office say during his and Pam's wedding?

Little moments with a girl who was engaged. 

Something like that.

It made Peter hopeful, thinking he had a chance with this alien of a girl. She was unlike anyone he's ever met. Charming, funny, sarcastic, honest, kind (to a degree), and somehow pretty. Peter's always developed crushes based on personalities and actions, not looks. But physical attraction was always a large, large bonus. It was always more fun and less socially humiliating.

But he's not any of those, is he?

Peter's eyes downcast as he was swarmed with awful, painful self-loathing.

MJ would never want someone like him. A perky ballerina. A pitiful, mentally weak, shy, awkward, geeky, broken boy. No, she deserved much better. How could she possibly like him? 

It seemed his optimism was suffocated by his own self-consciousness.


	2. It's A Date

Peter sat by himself during lunch since Ned was at a doctor's appointment for some weird toe fungus. Peter bought himself some mac and cheese from the cafeteria, along with a can of orange juice. The food was always dry and yucky but he could tolerate most of it. Although he usually didn't finish it.

He was about to pull out his phone, until he heard the chair across from him scrape against the floor. He glanced up, eyes widening and heart dropping to his groin as he watched MJ sit across from him. He quickly sat up, trying to fix his posture.

"H-Hi-Hi," he sputtered out, blushing already.

MJ smirked, giving a small nod. "Hi," she replied.

They sat in silence for a little while, Peter confused as to why she sat with him. But he wasn't about to tell her off. MJ's usual black sweater hung on her shoulders, a black lace shirt underneath, keeping her collarbone and cleavage covered up. Peter couldn't see her pants, but he didn't care enough to check.

Her hair was up, but a few curled strands shaped her face. Some locks fell over her eyes, Peter fighting the urge to reach over and tuck it behind her ear. 

"What?" she asked.

"Huh?" Peter asked back.

She cocked a brow, staring down the slightly shorter male. "You're staring at me."

"Oh, sorry," Peter whispered, looking down at his food.

He wasn't able to see the smile that laced MJ's lips. But once he looked back up, she let it fall. He obviously wanted to say something, although MJ wasn't the patient type. "Have you ever gotten high?" she asked.

Peter blinked in utter confusion, needing a second to collect his rushing thoughts before replying with a shy, "I-I got surgery on my ear once. They had to put me under."

"You're cute," she huffed, smiling. Peter could've sworn his heart died. Before he could muster something embarrassing, she continued, "Behind the ice rink. Four-thirty. It's a date."

She got up and walked away, Peter finally able to see her black jeans and brown boots. His heart thudded in his chest, looking down at his cold food in thought.

_Did she just ask me out?_

Are we going to get high?

What if we get caught? 

Peter ignored his worries, excited at the thought of hanging out with MJ outside of school.

_It's a date._

A date-date? A romantic date? Or just a friendly outing? Peter chewed at his thumbnail, soon getting up and clearing his tray. He returned to his locker, texting Tony to tell the billionaire he isn't able to make it today to work on his new web-shooters.


	3. Virgin Lungs

Peter held the straps of his book bag, taking a deep breath, breathing in the fresh and crisp air of fall. Browning leaves fell from trees, collecting on top of stems of grass and rough asphalt before getting crushed by feet or tires. But the trees is where Peter's eyes stuck to. 

Orange flares mixed with deep reds and yellows. It's as if you freeze-framed a fire, branches from the threes acting as kindling and logs of wood, depending on the size. 

Fall was Peter's favorite time of the year. Scorching heat was left behind, bone-crackling cold on the horizon. Fall was an awkward in between, where plants died; all life preparing to be suffocated by snow. Sometimes by small plants, that metaphor was't quite a metaphor anymore.

Peter soon crossed the busy street, giving a small wave and smile for the woman in a Ford pickup who stopped for him. After walking for a few more minutes, he arrived to the ice rink. It wasn't open yet but once it gets colder out, people will begin to gather their skating gear. 

He took another deep breath, then walked around the building to the back. He didn't quite know what he was expecting, but he smiled once he was met with MJ, who was leaning against the rink's wall. 

"Hi," Peter said.

MJ looked over, smiling before taking her hands out of her pockets. "Hey," she replied.

"How are you already here?" Peter asked.

MJ pointed to a black 1993 Yamaha SECA II. "Drove here. Making you walk was kinda funny," she scoffed, smirking non-apologetically. She walked over to her vehicle, getting on the leather seat with ease. "Come on."

Peter blinked, brows furrowing. "That's a motorcycle," he said.

"Yeah. And?" she asked.

Peter stared at her for a couple seconds, before walking over and awkwardly getting on behind her. He noticed her lack of book bag but didn't say anything about it. Maybe she had nothing to bring home.

"Well?" MJ asked.

"What?" Peter asked, dumbfounded. 

"You're going to fall off if you don't hold onto me," she replied kindly.

"I don't think I need to--"

"--Peter," she warned.

"Sorry," he whispered, moving closer to her before hesitantly wrapping his arms around her waist. He heard her small scoff of amusement before the motorcycle sparked to life.

MJ made sure Peter's feet were up, before glancing back to look at him. "You good?" she asked.

He nodded, but quickly asked, "Don't we need helmets?"

She smiled and looked ahead again, pushing the kick stand up with her foot before smoothly driving to the end of the rink's back driveway. She watched cars and trucks go by before merging into traffic.

Peter's arms tightened around MJ, pressing his face against the back of her neck as his eyes clenched shut. His heavy breathing was swallowed by the motor roaring, wind whistling past his ears. For some reason he was comfortable with web-slinging but not with a motorcycle. He had much less control.

The next following eight minutes was just Peter trying not to have a heart attack. Once the motorcycle stopped and the engine died, Peter let out a breath of relief. "You okay?" he heard MJ ask as she gently patted his hand with hers.

He nodded, sitting up as he took his arms back. "Y-Yeah," he replied, forcing a small smile. She laughed softly, making sure the kickstand was steady before getting off the motorcycle. She then helped Peter off, not mentioning his now frizzled and undone curls. It was pretty adorable.

"Where are we?" Peter asked, walking into the apartment building with MJ.

"My place," she replied, leading him up a few flight of stairs before pulling out a key. She unlocked a door, letting Peter go in first before shutting the door behind them. "No one else is here, 'cept for my cat. I don't live with my mom anymore," she said.

"Oh. Aren't you seventeen, though?" he questioned hesitantly, not wanting to strike a nerve or hurt MJ's feelings.

"If you get permission from a parent, you can live alone," she explained, walking to her living room with Peter.

MJ sat down, so Peter decided to sit next to her. He watched as she opened a drawer from the coffee table, then pulled out a medium sized wood box. She opened it up, Peter taking in the sight of a metal tin, a few soft tubes of rolled up paper, small parchment paper-like sheets, and a small jar half-full of weed buds. 

"What's that?" he asked.

"What's what?" she asked back.

Peter gently pointed to the tin, brows furrowed. Getting high or using non-pharmaceutical drugs was never something Peter considered himself trying. He felt like chickening out, but was highly curious and didn't want to seem lame.

"A grinder," MJ replied. She pulled out a couple of the tubes, handing one to Peter before grabbing a lighter from her table. "Have you ever smoked before, Pete?" she asked.

Peter held back a smile at the nickname, shaking his head as he looked down at the blunt between his fingers. 

"Alright. Well it's gon' be kinda hard on your lungs at first, but after the first few puffs you should be fine," she assured. "But you need to pace yourself, okay?" she asked. "But I'll help you with that."

MJ smiled kindly at him and after a couple seconds, Peter smiled back. "Okay," he said.

Then he watched as the lighter flickered to life, her blunt crisping as it began to burn. She held it between her teeth, making sure it wouldn't lose the spark before breathing in. Then she breathed out, Peter scrunching his nose at the new and odd smell smell. He watched the smoke disperse, glancing down at his own unlit blunt.


	4. A Baked Spider

"Woah..." Peter breathed out. He was on his back, staring up at the white ceiling. But his legs were laid across MJ's lap. MJ was gently rubbing his thigh and knee, keeping him from panicking. He's had a few oh, my God, I'm high moments but she's always found a way to calm him down. 

"What?" MJ asked.

"'S so weird," he whispered.

"What is?" she asked, glancing down at the other. 

"How...how the skeleton isn't inside of you. You're the brain, s-so...so you're inside of the skeleton."

"Mhm," she replied, smiling at his adorableness. 

MJ tried pacing him. She was successful for his first few cough-full puffs. But he soon got impatient and she let him speed up between drags. She wasn't very worried, confident that Peter could hold himself together. She was delightfully wrong, since the sight of Peter right now was amusing and made her heart melt.

"Do you play any sports?" she suddenly asked, watching Peter inspect his own fingers and palm. He didn't even seem to notice MJ's hand gently rubbing his thigh.

Peter shook his head. "I'm a ballerina," he whispered.

"Fun," MJ said. "You're fuckin' baked, huh?" she asked, scoffing as Peter shook his head again. He giggled and MJ could've sworn her brain short-circuited. 

She took Peter's blunt from him, putting both of theirs out by drowning them in an old glass of warm water at her coffee table. "I'm sure you're awfully pretty in whatever you wear in ballet," she said.

Peter nodded, getting all flustered again. MJ moved to sit against the armrest, maneuvering Peter by his shoulders so his head laid on one of her thighs. 

"Did you even smoke?" Peter asked her, wondering why she was still so mobile and was acting clear-headed, unlike him. 

"I have a tolerance. And I don't think I had as much as you," MJ explained, fingers gently combing through Peter's knots as the short haired brunet let his eyes fall shut, eyelids becoming heavy. "We should eat soon. Maybe after you take a quick nap," she suggested.

"Naw' tired," Peter slurred. 

"Not tired?" MJ echoed back, almost cooing at him like one would a toddler or a baby.

"Nuh-uh," Peter grumbled, hiding his face against her.

MJ smiled, sighing as she leaned back and continued to play with his hair. Despite Peter's claims of not being tired, MJ soon felt the tension from his frame drain, his body going slack. He was silent and motionless, except for his calm breathing and the steady rise and fall of his chest. 

She sat there with him, admiring the way the sweat on his cheekbones shone against the natural sunlight making it's way into the room. After a few minutes, MJ heard a short buzz coming from Peter's jeans.

MJ reached into his pocket, pulling out the younger teen's StarkPhone. She stared at it for a couple minutes, before pressing the home button and seeing the text notifications on his lock screen. 

_Mr. Stark_  
 _It's not like you to miss a day. But I'll see you Sunday, maybe?_

_May_   
_Okay, honey! Have fun at Ned's! Text me whenever you need a drive home if Ned's mom is busy._

_Ned_   
_im free at 7 if u won play mc_

MJ frowned softly. But she shut Peter's phone back off before returning it to his pocket. She already felt like she was invading his privacy by looking at the texts, so she wasn't even bothered to try and reply to them. She decided to just play on her own phone to kill time as she waited for Peter to wake up.


End file.
